Not To Be A Burden
by AlphaWolfOfRed67
Summary: Dean's angry and reckless, not listening to anything Sam says. Rather than be a burden, Sam hides his injuries he received on a rather nasty Salt N Burn. We know how well that always goes. Original Title- Somethings Broken Set In Season 2


A/N: This is an old story that was posted on my other account. Sadly, it was made using facebook and I will be deactivating my facebook along with that account. Some of you may know it or this fic. I'll have to move them from my old account called - _ **DarkluminateOfNight**_ \- I think that's what it was XD Anyway, many apologies! Since I don't have a computer an I am using a phone I ain't gonna bother touching this story up. It seriously needs it though XD Oh well.

Takes place during season 2!

Enjoy ^^

* * *

Sam appreciated the coolness of the glass, sighing with mild relief when it touched his skin.

Him and Dean had gotten tossed around like ragdoll's. A simple salt and burn didn't go as planned. They were both a little on edge. Ever since their dad's recent and unexpected death, Dean took more risks than necessary. He was reckless. Like flipping a switch, he had this whole new 'I don't care' attitude and it was starting to really piss Sam off.

He knew his brother was angry and hurting and who could blame him? It wasn't hard to figure out their dad had made some sort of deal with the demon. The colt had disappeared from the room right after and that was prove all in itself.

 _Its my fault dad's dead_.

Sam remembered the pain filled words. His brother thought it was one hundred percent his fault but Sam thought differently, trying to convince Dean that none of it was his fault but instead of trying to listen Dean would respond with a murderous glare and a stern and demanding ' _don't Sam'_. Sam would sometimes get the nerve to push his brother a little to far to the point Dean retaliated, usually with fists. It was Dean's way of showing his anger and if it meant he was a punching bag to help release some of that pint up rage then so be it.

He wouldn't listen to anything Sam had to say on hunts. It was one reason they both were injured.

"Dean, I don't think we should separate."

Dean looked at him in disbelief. "It's a salt and burn Sam. Grow a backbone!"

Dean grabbed two salt guns from the back of the Impala. Handing one to Sam rather forcefully. After putting the shells in he shut the trunk and glared at Sam when he felt his brother grab his shoulder when he started walking towards the house. "What now Sam?" He asked impatiently.

"I got a bad feeling about it. All I'm saying is maybe we should stick together." Sam tried to reason but the look in Dean's eyes was defiant and he knew trying to convince his brother was a loss cause.

Releasing him he watched as Dean turned his back and continued towards the house. Sam sighed and reluctantly followed.

The coldness was automatically and it sent chills up Sam's back. Ignoring it, he heard Dean say to do a quick sweep and then they would split. After ten minutes they had completely checked over the bottom of the house. "You take the basement, I got the upstairs." Dean ordered.

Dean went one way and he went the other. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong but there was no way of convincing Dean of anything. Sam was about to enter the basement when he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting solid floor. Panic washed over him and he was running back towards Dean before he even realized it.

He felt his breath hitch at the sight of his brother, a crumbled heap, at the bottom of the stairs. Un-moving and way to still. "Dean!"

Sam rushed to his side and dropped to his knees beside his fallen sibling. Gently he rolled Dean on his back. Quickly assessing him for any injuries. There. At the hairline above his ear was an ugly cut where blood was flowing freely from and running alongside his face. He was pleased when he hadn't found any broken bones. No doubt he had a concussion. Dean had obviously ran into their spirit. Keeping his gun in hand, he got up and started upstairs.

He made it to the top of the stairs. He quickly spun around when the sound of a door opening caught his attention. He slowly made his way to the room. Stopping at the door to quickly glance inside. Cautiously he entered. When he didn't find a sigh of the spirit he relaxed a little. He peered out of the window. The house was quite a ways up. He turned around in time to dodge a table that was flying towards him but he was to slow and got caught off balance, falling to the floor. He took a minute to catch his breath and started to stand up unfortunately the spirit didn't give him much time and was already throwing a rather large shelf at him. Sam couldn't get out of the way in time and the shelf hit him hard enough to send him out the window. He landed on the ground with a loud cry. Glass shattered from the broken window around him. Some cutting into his flesh.

His vision swam in and out and his breathing came in fast pants. He closed his eyes tight in hope of clearing his Vision. He tried to move and couldn't stop the yelp that came from doing so. A sharp pain in his side forced him to stay down a moment longer. His gaze went up to the window, where not seconds ago he was starring out of, and his eyes widened. There was standing a women in a long white dress looking down at him with a smirk and suddenly disappeared. Dean...

Sam tried setting up but the blinding pain in his side had him stop. He allowed his breathing to become regular and with nothing but pure adrenaline fueling his movements he once again tried standing up. Though on wobbly legs. He quickly straitened and went to the entrance of the house.

Dean was still where he left him and Sam tried not to panic. He bent down and had a time picking his brother up. His body protested the movement but he was able to get Dean out of the house and to the Impala. Dean had started coming around when they reached the car. Telling Sam to get off, he was fine. Sam had offered to drive, but his brothers words had caused him not to argue.

"No way you are touching my baby, you seen what happened last time!"

He knew Dean meant his words to hurt and they had but he didn't try to argue. If anything Dean had a concussion and he was more worried about his safety.

"Hows your head?"

Dean glared at him. "Bitch through me down a flight of stairs, what do you think genius."

"I was just asking Dean."

"Well, don't."

Dean reached and turned on the radio, wincing at the throb it sent through his head. Sam also winced but not because of the sudden Metallica blaring in the car but because the pain was once again shooting up his side. Now that his brother wasn't in any immediate danger the adrenaline had vanished and he started to feel his whole body ache. He groaned slightly when he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position. He shot a glance towards Dean hoping his brother didn't hear his distress and apparently he hadn't even notice. He leaned back slowly. Keeping his mind off the pain and on the comfort of the Impalas engine he had shortly drifted into unconsciousness.

Dean looked over at his sleeping brother. The kid looked like crap. Not like Dean looked any better. They would have to stop soon. Reaching for the stereo he turned the volume down. Thanks to the pissed off spirit he had a splitting headache and probably a concussion and on top of that he was angry.

He knew what their dad had done. It was clear that the yellow eyed demon came into the mix somehow. Dean was practically on his death bed and the next day he was completely fine and John was dead but it was what he had said before that. Something about Sam and Dean knew he couldn't fully carryout his father's command. The very thought of it ate away at his very soul. It was to much to take in. He stared at Sam out of the corner of his eyes. The kid looked awful. His skin was pale and dark circles formed under his eyes. Sam hadn't exactly explained what happened. Only that the spirit will still be there in a couple of days and they could come back and finish it which of course pissed Dean off. They never left a hunt unfinished. All though after getting tossed down stairs he didn't complain to much.

Deciding it was time to stop, he pulled into Bate's Inn Motel. He quickly got their room number and was back into the car and parking it in front of the room. Sam hadn't moved. He's the one who took a high dive off the top floor yet Sam acted like he was. "Sam. Wake up!"

Deans voice was harsh. Not at all gentle and it got Sam's attention. He slowly blinked his eyes open and turned to face Dean. "Dean? You okay?"

"Yea, just peachy. You get the bags." Dean said tossing the keys to Sam who made no move to try and catch them.

Sam watched his brothers retreating form. Once Dean entered the room Sam let out a shaky breath and tried to set up only to whimper back as the pain registered. His body hurt everywhere but not as in tensely as his side had. Looking down he noticed a long tear in the side of his shirt. It was covered in a dark substance. His blood. He hadn't noticed it earlier.

He couldn't tell Dean. His brother had enough to deal with and that gave Sam enough strength to steadily get out of the Impala with a grunt. He would tend to his injury once Dean was asleep. Hiding it wouldn't be hard. Any sense Dean had bout knowing something was wrong with Sam had died when their father had. If anything he became distant and wouldn't give Sam a second thought. He got to where he didn't check Sam over on hunts either. Though it did make hiding any sign that he was injured easier, it made Sam feel the sadness along with it.

Somehow he had managed to get the bags, but not before securely zipping up his jacket to hide the wound, and hauled them into the room and tossed them on the bed.

Dean was tending to his head. From what Sam could see the cut wasn't as bad as it had appeared but his brother still took quite the knock to the head. "You need help?"

"No. I got it." Dean didn't look up at Sam.

Sam dug into the bags and took out the aspirin. He laid it down on the table in case Dean needed it. Shortly after Dean had cleaned the cut he grabbed them and downed two with a glass of water.

"Dean, I need to check your pupil's. You might have a concussion."

There it was. Dean's 'Piss off' glare. Sam sighed. His brother was being ridiculous. "Dean, please." He tried once more.

"It's a concussion Sam! Not a bullet wound! Leave it be."

Now it was Sam's turn to glare. He had about had it with his brothers short fuse. "A concussion all the same! It's still treated seriously! With the recent events you been forgetting that!" He fumed back.

Deans body tensed. He knew where is little brother was gonna go with this. He equally glared back. Daring Sam to continue. "And I am treating it seriously! Me, not you, so back off!" He warned.

Sam look dumbfounded. He knew he was walking on thin ice and the words he was about to say would put him on dangerous territory. "Or what? You'll hit me again? Go ahead Dean. If it makes you feel better you can hit me all you want but it wont change anything! Your tail spinning man! Dads dead and it left a whole so big your drowning. Your hurt, I get it. He was my dad to but you can't keep acting on a whim and doing reckless things! Your going in blind and its gonna get you killed!"

Sam didn't register Dean's solid fist colliding with the side of his face. It caused him to stumble back only to lose his balance and land on the floor. The throbbing cheek he could deal with but the red hot pain from his side was unbearable and he couldn't muster the strength to get back up. He was feeling light headed probably from the blood loss but he ignored it instead focused on the pure rage wracking Dean's body.

"Don't. For starters you bailed! You always picked a fight with the man and now what? You suddenly feel bad about it now that he's dead? You left us for Stanford. So don't try to justify your actions! It's a little to late for that!" Dean turned. Grabbing for the keys on the table and heading for the door.

"Where are you going..." Sam's question was quiet but Dean heard it none the less.

"Out." Was his only reply before slamming the door shut behind him.

Sam stared at the door for several seconds. He had expected Dean's physical reaction but not the words, the truth, thrown at him. Dean was right. Sam had picked a fight with their dad before he died and even now he had more guilt but he didn't want to or had tried to justify anything and it was to little to late for Sam to take back that fight.

He pulled himself onto elbows and got up sluggishly. Going to the bathroom he tended to his side that had already gone numb. Very gently he he took his jacket and shirt off. He gasped. There was a piece of glass embedded in his skin. Flesh blood had starting pouring around it. Probably where Dean had knocked him to the floor. Bruises had already took shape as well.

Without hesitation he gripped the glass and yanked it our causing new blood to run out of his now open wound. It was then he realized that probably wasn't the best idea due to the blood he had already lost. Needing to quickly stop it, he moved towards the first aid kit only to sway dangerously. His vision was now blurred. It got harder to focus and he didn't feel his knees buckle under him as the floor quickly rose up to meet him.

He lay face down. His eyes half slits. His breathing was to fast and he had lost alot of blood. His brother would come back finding him dead. So much for keeping it hid, was his last thought before he was met with darkness as it surrounded him.

* * *

He felt heavy. His body ached everywhere but it was warm. His first thought was he was dead. The idea that Dean had found him laying on the cold floor scared him. Dean was angry with Sam but he knew his brother loved him. He had protected him his whole life and nothing would change that.

It didn't feel like he was dead. Which was strange because he was pretty sure laying on a floor bleeding out would ensure that but then he felt something pricking his arm but he couldn't make any of his limbs work. There was no beeping as if he was in the hospital either.

Confused, he tried to open his eyes only to find he was to weak to do so. The effort, if anything, made him more tired. Once again unconsciousness claimed him.

The second time he was aware, his body felt a bit lighter. He was warmer than before. His body still ached but he could make his limbs work slightly. Rather than try to move, he managed to get his eyes half way open. Enough to see where he was. He was met with the white ceiling looming above him. He blinked slowly. The task if just having them remain even half open was difficult.

He forced his head to turn to his side. Dean was asleep hooked up to an I.V. At first Sam wanted to panic, wondering why his brother needed a blood transfusion. Then he noticed that the pricking he felt in his arm before was do to a needle. His brother was supplying Sam with his blood. Not himself. Sam felt his eyes sting. Dean had come back in time to save him. Sam couldn't help the small smile. Even in Dean's state he still took care of his little brother.

Sam felt his eyes closing. What little strength he had disappeared. At least now he could relax knowing big brother was making things better at the moment.

When Sam woke up again, his muscles were sore and his side throbbed but the pain was bearable and he had most of his strength back. Though he was still a bit weak. When he had turned his head expecting to see Dean, he found himself starring at the wall. He remembered when he woke up before. Seeing his brother passed out with his hands on the end of Sam's bed. He didn't get a good look at his face but Sam knew his brother looked bad.

The I.V was gone to. Sam would swear it was all a really good dream if it weren't for the hole in his arm from the needle. So Dean really was there...but where was he now? Sam moved, only for his expression to change to one of discomfort, but he got up in a sitting position. The blanket falling away. Sam didn't have a shirt on still and his whole lower stomach was wrapped in white bandages. More than likely stitched as well. He could say this for his brother, Dean was a hell of a doctor.

Sam smirked. The idea of Dean being a doctor was funny. He could see his brother in a white trench coat. The badass posterior wouldn't really suit his brother then but it reminded him of all the times he was injured on a hunt and Dean refused to let Sam patch himself up. He would always tell Sam 'That's what big brothers are for.' Lately the air was thick between them and his brother really wasn't his brother. Not the one he grew up with. The one who would pick him up when he fell and skinned his knee and later seen to it with care. No. This Dean was always angry now and didn't think twice before hitting Sam but he was his brother all the same. He understood Dean's anguish. His brother grew up idolizing their father and Sam? He grew up idolizing Dean. Studying him. Always trying to figure him out. Always trying to be just like his big brother...even now he still does.

Gently and carefully Sam twisted and placed his legs on the floor. He slowly stood up, wincing. His legs felt funny, probably because he hasn't used them for who knows how long. He started walking towards the kitchen but didn't make it very far before his long legs gave out and he fell to the carpet, grunting. It didn't really surprise him considering the injury he obtained. It would take a while to heal. Glancing down at it he could see spots of blood on the bandage. He had pulled his stitch's, Dean was going to kill him, if he wasn't already.

He started to get back up, when he felt a pressure around his waist. Sam froze. Turning his head he was now looking into the worried, but still angry face, of his brother. "Sam, what the hell are you doing!"

Sam gulped. He was not ready for a fight. Dean, seeing the distress in Sam's features quickly changed his own, sighing he pulled Sam to his feet, all to gently and led him back to bed. He noticed the blood staining through the bondages and cursed. "I think you pulled your stitches." Dean started moving to the bathroom, but not before giving a firm command to Sam. "Don't move."

Dean emerged with the first aid kit. Setting by his brothers bed he pulled the bandages away, wincing as the dry blood pulled at the skin. All but five stitches were undone and there was a count of thirty-five. "I'm going to have to re-stitch this..."

Sam noticed how tired and low his brothers voice was. He could imagine what it had to have felt like to come back and find your sibling face first, on the floor, in his own blood. Sam shivered at the thought. He couldn't imagine Dean like that, ever.

Dean saw Sam's tremble. "You cold?" He asked while pouring alcohol on the wound.

Sam hissed. God did that burn. Dean mumbled a quiet sorry. Sam knew that tone. Dean was hardly keeping it together and that usually meant he was deciding for a confrontation. It was then Sam really looked at Dean. His eyes were tired. Dark bags underneath them and his face was ghostly pale and he could easily see the worry lines forming. His brother looked like death warmed over.

"Would you quit with interrogation."

"Sorry...how long?"

Dean's hands, that working the last stitched, stopped. He met Sam's gaze. "Four days. 'been four days Sam."

Sam's eyes widened. Four days? He had been under for four days? No wonder Dean looked awful. As Dean finished the cleaning and re-stitching of the wound, he got up. "You need to eat something. Get some fluids in you."

He left Sam only to come back ten minutes later with a hot bowl of soup and a glass of water. Seeing if his brother was strong enough to hold the bowl, he was pleased to know he could manage it. Dean rubbed at his face as he took a seat in the chair he had occupied ever since finding Sam on the floor...

Dean remembered slamming the door shut and taking off. He had found a bar in town. He needed a few drinks but after about three shots something in his gut tightened. He knew something was wrong even if he didn't know what it was. Except his big brother instincts were working overtime. He raced back to the motel and when he couldn't find Sam in the room he yelled for him but without an answer back. He noticed the bathroom light was on and the door was wide open and what he saw nearly made his heart stop. Sam was laying in a pool of his own blood and a piece of glass, also covered in blood, was discarded not far from his body. His first thought was someone had attacked his brother but there wasn't any sigh of a break in nor a struggle.

He had quickly checked for a pulse. It was weak but was there. Dean had carefully rolled Sam over to get a better look at him and where the blood was coming from. It was a gash, most likely where the piece of glass had came from. It was tough and go. Non-stop hours of no sleep and pumping fluids into him. Dean was worried, no he was terrified. Sam was out ninety six hours and Dean was useless. At some point he thought Sam might never wake up but then he had left Sammy's bedside to use the restroom only to come back to find him on the floor.

Dean had never felt more relieved but seeing his brother trying to move after four days and a hole in his side made him want to hit the kid for even trying.

Sam had finished the soup and was now staring at him. He looked like he was about to ask something when Dean beat him to the punch. "Why didn't you tell me. What happened Sammy."

Sam lowered his gaze. "When the spirit knocked you out I was going to finish it but when I went upstairs I went to one of the rooms and the thing sent a shelf at me and knocked me out of the window."

Dean's eyes widened. "You were threw from a window!? You didn't think that was important enough to tell me?" Dean's voice had rose with each word.

"I thought I could handle it." He admitted.

"Well bang up job there!" Dean's reply was sarcastic.

"You were so pissed I figured you didn't want to know, Dean!"

Dean glared but truth was, he was angry and if he knew his brother, and he did, Sam would rather keep an injury hid rather than face Dean's fury. His eyes softened. "Sam, I don't care how pissed I am. You come to me when its this bad. I found you half dead...I thought I was going to lose you..." This time his voice did break. "I'm sorry little brother. For hitting you. For saying what I had. He was your dad to and I know your hurting as well."

When he saw Sam trying to get up, and succeeded, he rushed to his side. "Woah, woah Sam stop."

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders, trying to coach him back down. He didn't expect Sam to suddenly pull him against him. Wrapping his arms around Dean, he held on like it was his life line. After the surprise had gone, Dean returned the embrace. "Dean...im sorry."

It was the first real contact the brothers have had and Sam needed it like he needed air. He wanted his brother, needed his him, to know that he wasn't at fault,,,,for anything but for now he would allow his self to get lost in his brothers touch. To know he was there. Sam felt Dean's arms ho around him, though not as tight as Sam's hold, but he relieved in that simple gesture, of not pushing him away right then and there. He laughed at Dean's quiet intake, "This is SO not a chick flick moment."

He knew it was his way of brushing off that it WAS just that. Sam let go and allowed Dean to lower him back down to the comfort of the bed. For a moment they stared at each other. "Promise me that you wont hide when your hurt from me."

"I promise."

"Good. I can't lose you Sammy and you know I wont let it happen." He said determined, ready to swim through raging waters to save his brother.

"I know. Thanks Dean."

Dean nodded, putting the cover over Sam and returned setting across from Sam. He would be there when Sam needed him. When Sam was better. He knew Dean meant every word but he also knew his brother would keep blaming himself for what happened to their father. Along the way they would mend wounds, more than just the physical ones.


End file.
